Why Are You Reading That

“Oh, why are you reading that?,”
I was asked the other day.
With a reserved caveat,
I entered this mental fray.

“Largely to amuse myself;
For something a little new.
I saw it on a bookshelf
And thought to give it a view.”

“There are deeper books to read,”
My challenger did propose.
“They’re better your mind to feed
With fresh ideas to disclose.”

“I know I like this fluffy stuff
And I hesitate to change.
The same old thing is enough –
I don’t want anything strange.”

“Oh, c’mon, what you read is weird.
Dragons and spaceships aren’t real,”
I could hear he clearly sneered.
“Read that – your brain will congeal.”

“An open mind holds no thought,”
I so wanted to reply.
It makes no sense, really squat,
But I was tired of this guy.

“Let me read my fantasies,
And you read the scholar’s tome.
I will roam galaxies,
While you stay closer to home.”

“When I stop, back to reality
I will assuredly come.
There’s plenty to remind me
What I went to escape from.”